Anne Barbour (9 page)

“She left my house that night with a roll of soft she could not even fit into her reticule. I learned shortly thereafter that the gambling debt had been incurred not by her brother, but by her lover, of whose existence, needless to say, I had heretofore been unaware. I was crushed, to understate the matter. You see, I was so very young. Ah, well.” He laughed softly. “It was a long time ago. And even at that, sad to say, I failed to learn my lesson, for my next
chere amie
was pretty Patsy Ford-ham. She was a viscountess, whose doting husband was wealthy enough to buy a small country. When she bestowed her favors on me, I was vastly set up in my own estimation, but she was the greediest baggage imaginable. You can understand how lowering it was for me to discover that she was merely using me as a source for whatever jewelry she desired that the viscount had neglected to purchase for her.

“It was at that point, I’m pleased to say, the lesson sank in. Suffice it to say that the time is past when I can be duped by a touching story no matter how lovely the teller of the tale.

“Which brings us back to Mademoiselle St. Aubin. We have come to a business arrangement, and so far she has lived up to her part of the bargain admirably. She has more or less abandoned her ‘damsel in distress’ position, so things will no doubt proceed smoothly.”

“Oho,” chuckled Simon. “Another agreeable connection in the offing?”

Jared was startled by the question, and made oddly uncomfortable by it, but he replied lightly.

“I think it unlikely. She seems to have taken me in an unaccountable dislike. And with that I will leave you, for it is time to dress for dinner. I trust you brought appropriate attire.”

“Yes, if you mean knee breeches. I assume the old standards still prevail? I thought so. Have no fear, I shall dazzle the assembled company. Now be off with you.”

In her chambers, Diana was made aware of the approaching dinner hour by the advent of Kate, bearing another addition to her wardrobe. It was evident that Lady Amabelle had made good her promise, for this time the ensemble was suitable for evening wear. The lutestring gown, of palest lime, was not precisely in the first stare of fashion, but the low neckline was trimmed in French ruching, and there were two flounces around the hem.

Having buttoned and tucked Diana into the gown, Kate was all admiration, declaring herself obliged to create a hair style that would do the raiment justice. The result was a becoming swirl of curls perched atop Diana’s head. A few ringlets were allowed to escape, framing her face in an enchanting filigree of antique gold.

Surveying herself with guilty pleasure, Diana discovered the age-old feminine truth that almost any trouble can be lightened by the knowledge that one looks one’s best.

As Kate led her once more through endless passages to the drawing room, she made another discovery. Her heart was pounding in an alarming manner in anticipation of another confrontation with Lord Burnleigh!

Chapter 8

Upon entering the pleasant chamber that served as the drawing room, Diana found the other members of the household already assembled. Lady Teague, Jared, and Simon were seated in earnest conversation on a settee of straw-colored silk. Mrs. Sample and Miss Bledsoe carried on their own exchange by the fire, while Lissa sat some distance away, stabbing with her embroidery needle at a tambour frame.

At Diana’s entrance, Jared rose and escorted her to a comfortable armchair near the settee.

“Ah, Miss Bavister. So pleased you could join us.” This with a satirical lift of his eyebrows. “I understand Miss Bledsoe has been showing you a little of the countryside. Very charming this time of year.”

“Yes, indeed, my lord,” contributed the governess in a tremulous voice. “And in our travels we met Lord Stedford, out to take the air, you know. He seemed quite taken with our guest,” she simpered.

“Umph,” was the earl’s only response.

“You do not like the viscount, my lord?” inquired Diana, managing to convey in her tone that the world seemed inordinately full of persons who did not meet with Lord Burnleigh’s approval.

Jared frowned.

“I barely know the fellow. My impression is that he’s a rum touch if ever I met one, but then, as I’m sure you will agree. Miss Bavister, first impressions can so often be misleading.”

Diana felt herself flushing, but she lifted her chin as she replied. “You are so right, my lord. It is refreshing to hear such a sentiment upon your lips.”

Here Lady Teague took issue.

“I do not know what you can mean, Jared. The circumstances of his coming to Silverwell are, of course, unfortunate, but the viscount is a very nice young man.”          Diana interrupted diffidently.

“Excuse me, my lady, but Lord Chamford mentioned something about the trouble at Silverwell. I—I would not like to say something untoward to Lord Stedford out of ignorance ...” She finished her sentence with a questioning lift of her brows.

“Oh, not trouble, really—that is, not precisely,” said Lady Teague.

She launched into a somewhat disjointed explanation. “You see, the old viscount—Charles—was a great friend of Papa’s. He had three sons. The youngest became estranged from the family many years ago and ran away to America. He died there not long after. He was always a sickly lad, and, of course, the climate in the Colonies is notoriously unhealthy. His lordship’s wife passed away not long afterwards.”

Lady Teague’s eyes filled with easy tears. “He felt her loss keenly. Then, a few years ago, the two remaining sons and their families perished in a boating accident. The old viscount was devastated. He never did regain his health, and he passed away last fall. With all his sons gone, the title and the estate—which was considerable, Lord Stedford being a very warm man, as they say—went to his great-nephew, Ninian. Papa took the whole thing very badly. I don’t think he has yet received the poor boy. It’s really too bad. I mean, it’s not the young man’s fault if—well ...” She broke off and twisted to face the earl. “I don’t care what you say, Jared, Lord Stedford is in everything unexceptionable. His manner, his bearing . . .”

“Yes, Aunt, one would have to agree that he is charming, handsome, and dresses with extreme, er, élan.” Lissa sat up very straight at that. “I think he is dashing!” she said abruptly.      

 “Throwing down the gauntlet, Lissa?” Jared smiled. “I am quite ready to admit that he is the fulfillment of a schoolgirl’s dream.” Lissa pouted.

“But not, I trust,” continued Jared, a slight edge to his voice, “the fulfillment of your particular dreams.”

Lissa’s cheeks flamed, and she tossed her head.

“I have outgrown schoolgirl fantasies,” she sniffed.

“I’m pleased to hear that,” her brother retorted. “I hope, then, that we will not have a repeat of your disgraceful behavior at Tunbridge Wells. I understand that you embarked on a desperate flirtation with at least three of the military men stationed there.”

“Well, really, Jared!” Lissa fairly leaped from her chair in indignation, and she shot an accusing glance at Miss Bledsoe. “You have no right to interfere in my— that is, are you implying I would . . . ?”

“I imply nothing. Merely placing a word where it will do the most good.”

Lissa set her lovely mouth, and Diana instinctively moved to spread oil on these turbulent waters.

“Lissa, how did you find your grandfather when you went to him this afternoon?”

This served to divert the girl’s thoughts, and she sighed.

“Very badly. I could not believe the change that has taken place in such a short time. His mind seemed to be wandering and—and he could scarcely speak.”

Jared moved to her and put his arm about her shoulders. Brother and sister stood silently for a moment, differences forgotten in their common pain.

Simon spoke then.

“I was with him until just a few minutes ago. He was sleeping deeply when I left, and Fishperk will send to us immediately if there is any change.”

Since no one was expected to sit down to the table with a hearty appetite on this somber evening, a simple meal had been set out on the snowy table covers. To Diana, however, accustomed to thrifty boarding school fare, the array of dishes seemed positively sumptuous. A raised mutton pie was accompanied by Hessian soup and cucumber prawns in a wax basket. Next appeared a neat’s tongue with cauliflowers, and a variety of vegetable dishes, served with appropriate sauces. Jellies and creams and cakes were offered as a remove, including a Gateau Mellifleur.

Conversation was desultory, consisting mainly of talk between Jared and Simon of the probable outcome of Napoleon’s march to Paris.

When the last covers had been removed, the gentlemen waved aside the brandy and port, declaring their intention of looking in on Lord Chamford, and promising to join the ladies in a few moments. Aunt Amabelle rose and led the ladies from the room.

“What a magnificent piano!” were Diana’s first words on entering the music room behind her ladyship. She crossed to the instrument, which occupied one corner of the room in lordly splendor.

“Yes, it’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” replied Lady Teague. “Papa had it installed several years ago, when Lissa began her lessons.”

“And I absolutely trembled in awe the first time I sat down at it,” Lissa said with a laugh. “The sheer grandeur of the thing still makes me feel totally inadequate.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” said Aunt Amabelle. “Your playing is delightful, I’m sure. Why don’t you favor us with a little something?”

Sighing, Lissa sat down at the keyboard and launched into a lively sarabande. She played with great spirit but little technical prowess, giving evidence to Miss Bledsoe’s comments on her lack of application.

After only a few bars she gave up, splaying her fingers across the keys in a dissonant jangle of chords.

“But dear Lissa,” murmured her governess nervously, “that is our new piece. Perhaps if you try one of the others that we have mastered—more or less ...”

“Well, I shan’t,” cried Lissa. “I can’t think about the stupid music when Grandpapa is . . .” She pushed back the piano bench and stood with a mutinous flounce.

Diana also rose, and moved toward the piano as though drawn. Under Lissa’s wondering eyes, she sat down before the instrument and raised her hands. She held them suspended for a few moments over the keys, then, with a little choke, dropped them into her lap.

“Do you play, Miss Bavister?” asked Mrs. Sample brightly.

”Yes, a little.”

“But how delightful,” intoned Mrs. Sample, “You must treat us to a tune.”

“Yes, Miss Bavister, please favor us with a selection. I’ve been told you have a gift for the pianoforte.”

Diana whirled in her seat. Jared had entered the room quietly, and stood leaning against the door jamb, the familiar, hateful smile curling his lips.

Diana shivered, and felt the fingers twined in her lap stiffen into kindling wood. She vacated the piano bench precipitously, and fled to the sanctuary of a huge wing chair.

“No, no, really I would rather not, my lord. Besides, I’m sure your family wishes to know how Lord Chamford goes on.”

“Yes, Jared,” Lissa urged. “Tell us, has there been any change?”

All in the room turned to him.

“I’m afraid not. At least, not a change for the better. Grandfather is growing weaker, I fear. He is still sleeping. The doctor looked in while I was there, but could do nothing beyond shaking his head. Simon is still with him.” He looked around. “I suggest we make an early night of it. Tomorrow may be a difficult day for all of us.”

Lissa made no reply, but ran from the room in tears. Lady Teague left the room with Mrs. Sample, the two ladies murmuring words of comfort to one another. Miss Bledsoe followed silently.

Jared watched Diana as she rose and prepared to leave the room. Perhaps, he mused, it had been unfair of him to embarrass her in the matter of her skill at the pianoforte. However, it had been uncharacteristically foolish of her to make a claim that could so easily be disproved.

Nonetheless, he was irritated to discover that he was faintly disappointed. There was, of course, not the slightest possibility that this golden-haired beauty was anything but a tart. Why should he find himself wishing she had managed to squeeze an etude or two from those slender fingers?

Stifling this unwelcome line of thought, he hastened from the room, following the path taken by the ladies.

“Miss Bavister,” he called peremptorily, “would you come with me, please? I have something for you.”

Without waiting to see if Diana followed, he turned and proceeded to the library, a few steps down the corridor.

He went to the handsome Sheraton desk, and from one of its drawers produced a small pendant, hung on a slim golden chain. He turned to Diana, who had entered the room behind him.

“Morlock, our head coachman, brought this to me just before dinner. He found it behind the squabs of my curricle. It does not belong to me, so I must assume it is yours.”

He held the pendant up for Diana to examine. On a small drop of carnelian, the letters “A.L,” were carved in decorative script. The stone was set in gold, worked in a simple, old-fashioned design.

“Oh, yes!” Diana cried, reaching for it. “It is mine. I thought I had lost it. I have worn it most of my life, and it means a great deal to me.”

Jared maintained his hold on the little necklet.

“How touching. Most of your life, you say? And I had rather assumed it must be a token of your erstwhile lover’s devotion. ‘A.L.’ Can it be that you have given me a false name? Such perfidy, my pet! Or, perhaps, your protector stole the jewel from someone else? From his looks, I would not put highway thievery beyond him. It’s a pretty little bauble, to be sure, but not of great value, I think.”

Diana, determined to avoid any more brangles with his lordship this evening, swallowed her anger at his words, but she watched in growing fury as he held up the pendant, idly examining it. He paused, an attentive expression on his face.

“That’s odd. I could swear I have seen this before. Umph. Most probably it is a copy of a more famous piece. At any rate, you may keep it with my blessing. Allow me.”